Whispers of Pain
by Wildfire Dragon
Summary: Hermione is captive at Malfoy Manor. One shot.


Hermione is being kept prisoner in Malfoy Manor. One shot.

All rights belong to JKR.

Days blended together in her cell until she had no idea how long she'd been in there. Not that it mattered. She had given up hope that she would ever get out, that she would ever see her friends again. She was having trouble remembering Ron's face, the last kiss they had shared. It had become the greatest of her life, but in reality it had been sloppy, rushed, stolen when Harry's attention was elsewhere. But it was likely to be the last kiss she would ever feel against her lips and so she clung to it, holding it as a flame against her heart. It burned but it kept her _alive. _

She heard the sound of footsteps down the corridor and huddled deeper into the security of the ragged blanket they had given her. She was wearing rags, although she should have been glad of them. They could have stripped her naked and chained her to the walls. Manacles dangled behind her head but she was allowed the freedom of the cell. Maybe they knew they had beaten the fight out of her. She could barely move without her body aching and all her muscles were weak from lack of food. Even if her friends did find her she wasn't sure they would recognise her. She was no longer the 'know it all bookworm,' she didn't know what she was. And that was the worst thing about the darkness. She lost a little more of herself to it each day. The key scraped in the lock and the thick metal door swung open. She winced away from the light rushing in, like daggers stabbing at her eyes and waited for whatever curse they wanted to test on her today. Maybe they would feed her first, build up her trust only to break it.

_Keep a hold of your mind Hermione. You have to stay sane. _

She opened her eyes and stared at the death eater silhouetted in the doorway. There was no wand clutched in the man's hand and she found she didn't recognize the mask. Even Voldemort allowed his followers a small degree of individuality. The Death Eater standing in the doorways mask was pointed and long, blank metal without blemish, gleaming in the light of the torches flickering in the corridor. She tried to stir herself, unsure what to do, uncomfortable beneath the man's gaze. She let out a meow of pain as her muscles burned; she thought she saw the Death eater flinch slightly but it was probably her imagination. If she could have counted days, she'd have estimated three days since she had last eaten.

"Granger." It was one word, completely emotionless and flat but she recognized it and a burst of memory flashed behind her eyelids.

"_Filthy mudblood." _He had always been there to bring her down, to make her feel worthless and now he was in her cell, planning to break her even more. How fitting that the Slytherin Prince would be the one to steal the last vestiges of her sanity? She let out a sob and clutched the blanket tighter to her chest. Once she had had courage, she would have disarmed him, taken his wand and fought her way to freedom but her magic was weak, her brain starved. If she attempted to disarm him, he'd more than likely kill her for her trouble.

_A quick death. It could be worse. _

"Expelliarmus." she croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Nothing happened, not even the faintest flicker of magic. Perhaps her blood really was unworthy. She was sobbing fully now. Why was he just standing there? Why wasn't he torturing her, gathering his friends around him to laugh at the downfall of the mudblood.

"Please Malfoy, please, if you're going to kill me, please do it." she was begging, something she never thought she would do. How long had she been in here? Suddenly the door slammed shut and Malfoy was in the cell with her, his robes flowing like shadow around him. He was taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader but without the signature silver blonde locks she couldn't really be sure if he was still the same. His eyes, if she looked in his eyes she would know. That was why the Death Eaters wore masks. If eyes were windows into the soul, their eyes would be black and cold as the Black Lake.

"I'm not going to kill you." his voice was soft, pampered, aristocratic. It sent shivers down her spine that she couldn't explain. If he wasn't going to kill her, her fate was likely to be much worse than she could imagine. At Hogwarts Draco's marks had only been a couple of points behind her in Defence against the Dark Arts and she guessed that could only have improved under the tuition of his mad aunt Bellatrix. She sobbed again, then reigned herself in, scolding herself for her weakness. He would hear her screams by the end of his session she knew but for this moment, she could be strong. She might even be able to believe the Order would come to rescue her. She saw Malfoy's hand move within his robe and pull out his wand. She flinched, the blanket tumbling off her emaciated frame. Her ribs were like a ladder up her side, each one visible, almost bursting through her skin.

"Have they not been feeding you?"

The question took her by surprise and she wondered how best to answer. If she complained if her treatment, he would likely say it was exactly what her blood status afforded her. She hesitated.

"Answer the question Granger."

"Yes, they do." It was true for the most part. They fed her but it wasn't always edible and she couldn't always keep it down. She thought of the maggots in the last piece of bread they had given her and felt her stomach roll queasily. He was still standing there, twirling his wand between his slender fingers. When he reached up to strip away his mask she felt her heart begin to beat a wild tattoo in her chest. His face was chiselled from stone but his eyes were wild, dark molten silver and they were boring into her own.

"You look terrible Granger." he stated.

"You don't look so great yourself Malfoy." her voice was hoarse but she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, something she couldn't identify. He waved his wand at her and she flinched but to her surprise, a plate appeared before her. It was loaded with steaming food. She stared up at Malfoy suspiciously. He moved to the metal bunk in the centre of her cell and lowered himself onto it.

"Eat. It's not poisoned." He levitated the plate to him and took a bite of the meat, his eyes never leaving her own. He levitated the plate back to her and she reached tentatively for the food, biting into the tender meat and feeling the juices run down her chin. It was delicious. She hadn't had warm food since she'd been captured. She finished the plate, her stomach rolling queasily at the amount of food. Malfoy watched her silently the entire time she ate until she began to feel uncomfortable. Her rags didn't leave much to the imagination and reaching for the blanket, she covered herself up, pulling it tight around her shoulders.

"Thank you." she muttered when he waved the plate away with a flick of his wand. Another flicker passed across his face and she recognized this one, uncertainty. Malfoy didn't seem the sort who was used to being thanked, he gave orders and they were obeyed. She couldn't imagine him doing anything out of the kindness of his heart.

_What would you call feeding you? _

There was something going on but Hermione found herself scared to ask. Maybe this was to be her last day in the cell; she would finally confront the Dark Lord and her death.

_Ron, Harry, I love you both. _

"I'm ready." she whispered when the silence between them had become unbearable. It was odd, she couldn't even muster the energy to hate the man across from her, he who had been her nemesis for almost eight years. She felt only uncertainty when she looked at him and the bitter tang of fear; it was as though she were trapped in her cell with a poisonous snake. If she kept still she could hope her presence would go undetected but it was always watching her. It could smell her. Bursts of memory flashed behind her eyes and she squeezed them shut tightly in the hope she wouldn't see. Malfoy as a bouncing white ferret, the crack of his nose as her fist met it in third year, him pinning her against the shelves in the library in fifth year, after the Yule Ball, taunting her mercilessly, his body so close to her own that for one crazy second she had thought he was going to kiss her.

"Ready for what Granger?"

She forced her eyes open, forced herself to confront the living entity before her. He was still twirling his wand between his fingers, his eyes fixed on the ebony wood. He wasn't looking at her anymore, she noticed. It was nice to have a reprieve from his silver eyes.

"To face my death."

"You won't die today Granger."

"Then why are you here? Why are you feeding me?" the questions tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. She wanted to beg him to torture her, to get it over with because if he kept taunting her, the pain in her screams would be tinged with embarrassment and hatred. She didn't want to betray anything of her fragile emotional state to this man before her. She wanted him to leave her be but she couldn't say that. She bit her tongue, hard, to hold in all the things she shouldn't say.

"Because I won't let you die in this cell."

"Why not? Why do you care?" The food had given her a little strength but she could barely close the distance between them. She wanted to stand, to tower over him for one brief second before he took to his heels and left the cell. It was strange that she had never seen the young master of the Manor once since she'd been taken prisoner. She had expected he would come to torture her, had been holding onto her strength so she could spit in his face one last time. But now she had no strength left and Malfoy's actions were confusing her. It made her head pound and the cell swim dizzily before her eyes. Had the food truly been poisoned? Perhaps he had cast a spell to prevent himself from feeling the effects. She tumbled back against the wall shakily, hitting her head against the cold concrete. Malfoy was beside her in a second, reaching forward a tentative hand to feel the back of her head. His hand caught in the tangle of her hair and he was so close she could smell his fragrance. It was different from Ron and Harry's, darker and more profound. She felt tears slip down her cheeks at the pain in her head, the touch of her enemy on her skin, the scent of him playing havoc with her senses. His eyes met hers once more and she squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't see the turmoil of emotions flickering across his, echoed in her own. When she felt a hand beneath her chin, she fought it as best she could.

"Please Draco, please kill me." she was begging again, begging for release, for escape. At least in death she could have her memories. She only realised she had called him by his name when she heard a sharp intake of breath and her eyes flew open, expecting to meet the flaring tip of Malfoy's wand. Instead she found his face screwed up in a sort of pain she didn't recognise. It wasn't the pain of torture, the pain of having everything stripped away until there was only bare bones left. It almost seemed the pain of having everything revealed at one moment and not being in a position to do anything about it. It was almost the pain of love.

"I can't."

"Why not? Please." She closed her eyes in resignation, against the throb of pain.

"I can't kill you. I can't live in a world without you Granger." Suddenly his lips were on hers, beautifully soft and gentle and the pain became a firework display behind her eyes. She struggled, wanting to push him off, confused at the rush of emotions the kiss was awakening in her, things she had never thought she would feel again. He was the one to break the kiss, his breathing ragged and harsh. His silver eyes were stormy and wild when they looked into her own, seeking her out, chasing her down. Suddenly his wand was before her and Hermione flinched.

"Oblivate."

One word whispered with all the pain in the world. The pain of having everything revealed to you and not being able to grab it because it was forbidden, because it was wrong. Because it was everything you had ever dreamed of in the darkness and in the light, you were too afraid to grab. Draco Malfoy left Hermione Granger's cell, as if he had never been, his lips tingling with the taste of her, the taste of the girl he had been in love with for seven years.


End file.
